Alone
by Arthaan
Summary: He feels betrayed. This was not supposed to happend. Luckily there are always Darkspawn to hunt. Oneshot about the aftermath of the Battle of Denerim. Might turn it into a Story. Heads up, none native Speaker and first FanFic.


Alone. Alistair was alone. Sure there was Eamon offering his condolences. And Leliana tried to support him as best she could. The former Templar couldn't care less. He was alone. Alone on a throne he never wanted and she was gone.

How could they expect him to move on this quickly? Just two weeks prior they had fought together atop Fort Drakon. They had faced the Archdemon. The beast easily doubling the size of the Highdragon they had killed while searching for Andraste's ashes.

In her eyes had been no fear.

"The higher they fly, the harder they fall" she had said. And when they finally pushed the beast hard enough and it tried to flee it was her that jumped after it. She managed to catch on to the dragon and deliver the final blow.

But in doing so she sent the beast and herself tumbling off the tower. While engulfed in searing whit light his beloved fell.

When they found her, her body was contorted in all sorts of disgusting angles. Her skull was split in two. Her beautiful face torn apart, her blond locks doing very little to cover the cavern that had opened.

Alistair had cradled her body, screaming, crying, cursing, praying.

Everything after that was a blur. From what the king could piece together he had been disarmed, so that he could not harm himself. When he woke from his stupor his voice was gone. The stench of vomit lingered in his quarter.

He had begged and pleaded with Wynne and Irving to bring her back. When the mages were forced to disappoint him he had been furious. What good had those damned wizards and witches been anyway? They had brought nothing but death and disaster. Back when She had liberated the tower at Lake Calenhad and just hours before the last storm when he had done the unspeakable with Morrigan just to save Elaine's life. He had been promised, no warden had to die that day.

Then why was he the only warden left?

Why was he this alone?

Elaine Cousland had been buried in her family's crypt, in line with her ancestors.

Her brother had ordered a grand statue to be built and erected in the town square.

No statue could capture her greatness. He was sure Fergus Cousland knew that. Him being her brother was the only thing that kept Alistair from lashing out at him. After the ceremony both men got drunk enough to knock out a herd of charging bulls. It only dulled the pain. The next day it was back with a vengeance. A vengeance that only more drinking could quell.

Now he was in his throneroom. Some guy complained about something. Alistair couldn't care less. His gaze was fixed on the empty seat to his left. She once had joked that she would need to sit on his left, just because she wanted to be his shield when things got rough. He had replied that that would make him her sword.

"Well, you are. In one way or the other", she had laughed. Hours later you still couldn't tell the difference between the king's face and a tomato.

"...your judgement, my king?"

"What?"

"What is your judgement, King Alistair?", Arl Eamon asked pointedly.

"Ehm. Well. Do as you please."

With that Alistair drifted off again. And the day went on as the one before and the one before that. Then it was time for the last petitioner. This one managed to pull the king out of his daydream.

His name was Francis. He was a warden from Orlais. His accent was thick enough one might be able to cut it. He was tall and had broad shoulders. With him came a host of about 40 other grey wardens.

"Greetings, King Alistair. The order expresses it's deep regret for the loss of the Hero of Ferelden. A warrior of her prowess will be hard to replace. My brothers and I have been sent here to assist you as best we can in rebuilding the ferelden order as well as cleaning up the remaining darkspawn."

"No. Francis, you can not replace her. Not now. Not never. I advise you to never speak like that again. Have I made myself clear?"

The king had risen from his throne, his eyes burning ambers.

"Now what is that you speak of? Remaining darkspawn? Eamon?"

"I'm afraid he speaks the truth. The Coastlands and the Bannorn have reported darkspawn sightings as well as some attacks."

"And why do I hear only now of this?"

"I apologise. I did not want to disturb your grieving. That is why I sent word to Orlais and asked for assistance."

"You what?! Eamon, doesn't this constitute treason? Never mind."

Alistair stepped down the pedestal on which his throne sat.

"My king, where are you going?"

"To get my arms and armour. Francis, ready your men. There are darkspawn that need killing."

Arl Eamon looked on in bewilderment. Just a few minutes ago the king had resembled a sack of potatoes. Now he stood tall and strait. Maybe some more proactive grieving was just what Alistair needed.

"Goodspeed to you, son", he muttered to himself, as the king left for his armory.

Francis had snapped to attention. With a curt nod he turned around and left for the barracks.

"My, my, I would not want to be in Alistair's path if I were a darkspawn, would you?" It was Leliana speaking. She had agreed to stay and help Ferelden or rather help Eamon to rebuild what was lost. Also because Elaine had visited her the night before battle and asked her to. Just in case. The Warden had done much for Leliana without ever asking for anything in return. The Bard couldn't just turn away now.

"You know, normally I'd protest the king leaving his court to hunt darkspawn. Look what happened to Cailan. But I feel this is still better than having him sitting here and loathing himself."

"Shall I arrange for someone to follow him and make sure he does not get himself killed on purpose?"

"You think that a possibility?"

"I just know it was a miracle Zevran was quick enough to stop him from plunging into his weapon when we found her body."

"Then I think you should arrange for someone to take care of him."

\/

Alistair had missed the feeling of amour against his body. But even more he missed Elaine helping him with all the straps. It took considerably longer to fit everything together doing everything alone.

And there it was again. That damned feeling.

He was alone. But now he had something to focus on. He had a purpose. Those foul beasts that took his love could not be tolerated. He would need to have word with Eamon later.

For now it was time to hunt.

Even if he had to hunt alone.


End file.
